Whatever the cause, it was clear that Oscar was what Shakespeare called himself, "an unhurtful opposite." It is quite possible that if he had been attacked face to face, Oscar would have given a better account of himself.

At Mrs.Grenfell's (now Lady Desborough) he crossed swords once with the Prime Minister and came off victorious.

Mr.Asquith began by bantering him, in appearance lightly, in reality, seriously, for putting many of his sentences in italics.
"The man who uses italics," said the politician, "is like the man who raises his voice in conversation and talks loudly in order to make himself heard." It was the well-known objection which Emerson had taken to Carlyle's overwrought style, pointed probably by dislike of the way Oscar monopolised conversation.
Oscar met the stereotyped attack with smiling good-humour.
"How delightful of you, Mr.Asquith, to have noticed that! The brilliant phrase, like good wine, needs no bush.

But just as the orator marks his good things by a dramatic pause, or by raising or lowering his voice, or by gesture, so the writer marks his epigrams with italics, setting the little gem, so to speak, like a jeweller--an excusable love of one's art, not all mere vanity, I like to think"-- all this with the most pleasant smile and manner.
In measure as I distrusted Oscar's fighting power and admired his sweetness of nature I took sides with him and wanted to help him.

One day I heard some talk at the Pelican Club which filled me with fear for him and quickened my resolve to put him on his guard.